


Morning

by shomaun_ho



Series: CC Prompts [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, Romance, soft morning kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 18:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shomaun_ho/pseuds/shomaun_ho
Summary: "Shoma is objectively and unequivocally terrible at mornings.Yuzuru ruminates on this with a small, fond smile as he watches Shoma rub sleepily at his blood-shot eyes, pouting at the early hour. The skin on his cheeks is still bed-warm and pink, marred with thin, fading creases from the folds on his pillow, and his hair is adorably messy, untamed fluff sticking up and out at every possible angle."**Prompt: Yuzu sitting Shoma on his kitchen counter to kiss him while Yuzu's mom is out





	Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This was the result of an anon in my curiouscat who said: "Yuzu sitting Shoma on his kitchen counter to kiss him while Yuzu's mom is out"
> 
> I think this was perhaps supposed to have more of a horn-vibe than it does, but it screamed warm summer mornings to me, and this is where I ended up! Thank you so much for the idea <3 it finally got my dumb writing juices flowing a little. I apologise in advance for the...stiffness and rustiness of it, but hopefully I can shake that off some time soon :D

Shoma is objectively and unequivocally terrible at mornings.

Yuzuru ruminates on this with a small, fond smile as he watches Shoma rub sleepily at his blood-shot eyes, pouting at the early hour. The skin on his cheeks is still bed-warm and pink, marred with thin, fading creases from the folds on his pillow, and his hair is adorably messy, untamed fluff sticking up and out at every possible angle.

He has yet to say much, besides the odd grunt and grumble and sleepy, murmured mumble. Yuzuru has learned, after many an unsuccessful attempt, that it is far better that he stay quiet, too, and give Shoma the time to acclimate to the day before trying for any semblance of conversation.

The quiet between them is thick and drowsy, but comfortable all the same. Though the sun is still crawling up on the horizon, light creeping its way across the kitchen floor and slowly climbing the walls, the day is already shaping up to be _hot_.

The breeze that passes through the open window is heavy and humid. It lifts odd strands of Shoma’s hair, blowing them lazily, though Shoma doesn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with staring at the coffee pot as it brews, his eyes glazed and unseeing. Yuzuru watches him, affection blooming warm and full in his chest.

He pours them a mug each, filling Shoma’s with plenty of milk and sugar—too sweet for his own taste—and holds it out with a quiet, “Here.” The silence in the room isn’t so fragile that Yuzuru’s voice breaks it; it is syrupy, elastic, and his one word melts into it, dissolving into nothing, though it doesn’t go unnoticed. Shoma blinks blearily, then reaches out with both hands and draws the mug close to his face, blowing the steam from it. His fingers barely poke out of his sleeves to grip the cup. _Yuzuru’s_ sleeves, for the shirt he wears certainly isn’t one of his own.

“Thank you.”

Shoma takes a few tentative sips of his drink, and closes his eyes, savouring the taste of his first dose (of many, no doubt) of caffeine for the day. And then, when the mug is drained a third of the way, he leans back against the counter with a contented sigh, looking up at Yuzuru with a gaze that is, finally, _somewhat_ comprehending.

“I hate mornings.”

Yuzuru laughs softly.

“I’d never have guessed,” he teases, reaching out a hand to smooth down a particularly unruly patch of Shoma’s hair. Shoma closes his eyes and hums, leaning into the touch.

“You don’t like them either,” he says. It’s somewhat accusatory, mostly point of fact—Yuzuru is not naturally a morning person, though he hides it far better than Shoma ever could. And he tells him so now, tucking a few long strands of hair behind Shoma’s ear and raking his fingers softly against Shoma’s scalp. He makes a sound akin to a purr, shivering lightly. Yuzuru’s lips pull into an involuntary smile.

“You’ve had more practice,” Shoma breathes, tilting his head until Yuzuru’s nails scratch into the shorter hair near the back of his neck. Yuzuru snorts out another airy laugh and draws his hand away, watching with interest as Shoma sways on the spot, then blinks, sluggish at first, then rapidly, chasing away the haze of sleepy comfort that had started to settle over him again.

He leans more heavily against the counter and lifts his coffee back to his mouth.

“You need chairs in your kitchen,” he mumbles, voice muffled where his lips press to the ceramic. Yuzuru rolls his eyes. This is a comment he has heard every morning for the last week and a half, while Shoma has been staying with him, and will no doubt continue to hear for the remainder of his visit. Shoma has tried sitting on the floor, and he has tried waiting at the dining room table, and he has tried lounging on the sofa while Yuzuru makes them drinks, but nothing has sufficed. The floor is uncomfortable, and the dining room is far away, and the sofa is _too_ comfortable, enough that it lulls him back into sleep.

Yuzuru puts his coffee cup down with a sigh. Then he reaches with a delicate hand and plucks Shoma’s mug out of his grip, too, and places it down beside his own. Shoma gives a petulant whine and shoots Yuzuru a glance that is equal parts confused and charmingly grumpy. Yuzuru smiles at him, an easy flash of teeth, and then clamps both hands at Shoma’s waist, and hoists him up off the grand.

Shoma yelps, startled, hands coming to grip tight at Yuzuru’s shoulders, but before he can complain too loudly or vehemently, Yuzuru sets him abruptly down on the counter top.

For a moment, Shoma looks surprised—eyes wide, mouth a little _o_ _,_ brows lifted towards his hairline—and then he frowns, and purses his lips, loosening his grip on Yuzuru’s shoulders, though he doesn’t let him go.

“Better?” Yuzuru asks, smiling, wickedly innocent, at Shoma’s stony, disgruntled expression.

“I could’ve gotten up here by myself,” he says.

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t think about it,” Shoma retorts, pinching perhaps harder than necessary at Yuzuru’s shoulder.

“Well, I’ll let you do it yourself next time,” Yuzuru says. He nudges Shoma’s knees apart and moves to stand between them, bracketed by Shoma’s thighs, dropping his forearms to the counter top and letting his fingers slip beneath the hem of the shirt Shoma is wearing, finding the warm skin of his hips and brushing lazily over it. A little of Shoma’s disgruntlement shifts, his eyelids fluttering involuntarily at the touch. Yuzuru’s wicked grin softens.

“Good,” Shoma murmurs distractedly, “I will.”

“Mmm, good.” Yuzuru teases his fingertips across the edge of the waistband of Shoma’s sweats. Shoma gusts out an unsteady breath through his nose. “I’ll give you a boost if you need it, though.”

Shoma squeezes his knees at Yuzuru’s hips with a strength that is bordering on _painful._

“Pick me up again, I dare you.”

Yuzuru soothes his hands placatingly at Shoma’s hips.

“Only because you’re tired,” he says. His voice shudders with an edge of self-satisfied humour that has Shoma’s eye twitching before Yuzuru can finish, “not because you’re shor—”

“—I'm sure Eteri’s offer is still open, you know. I can go elsewhere.”

“No, no no.” Yuzuru wraps one arm loosely around Shoma’s waist, keeping him close. He leans in, until he can feel the tickle of Shoma’s fringe against his own forehead, Shoma’s breath billowing softly over his own cheeks. He nudges his nose against Shoma’s, fingers drawing nonsense patterns against the skin of Shoma’s hip. “No. Here is good.”

Shoma huffs, but he settles into Yuzuru’s grip easily, shuffling closer to the edge of the counter when Yuzuru gives him an inviting tug forward. Shoma’s lips brush against his, and Yuzuru tilts his head closer, brushing back—barely-there, but enough to elicit another shaky sigh from Shoma.

“Here is okay,” Shoma agrees quietly. Yuzuru hums softly, a quiet sound that catches in his throat when Shoma curls a hand loosely at the back of Yuzuru’s neck, fingers carding up into the hair there, and pulls him in impossibly closer, but still not enough—still, the pillowy softness of his lips is teasingly light against Yuzuru’s mouth.

“Just okay?” Yuzuru asks him. He tilts his head from one side to the other, the tip of his nose bumping against Shoma’s, brushing one cheek, then the other. Shoma’s grip on his hair tightens.

“Could be better.”

Yuzuru’s fingers continue their idle patterns, and Shoma shuffles almost imperceptibly closer, back arching just enough that his chest presses lightly to Yuzuru’s. There is hardly room for air between them, connected at hip and chest and nose and brow, and the last little breath of empty space between their lips feels full, loaded. It amazes Yuzuru that there is still some novelty in this—countless kisses over time have yet to cheapen the anticipation.

Yuzuru hums. There is a teasing _how_ on the tip of his tongue, but Shoma’s patience wears thin before his does. He closes the gap with slightly parted lips, and the sigh that shivers out of him blows warm, inviting air over Yuzuru’s face and neck.

Yuzuru kisses him back slowly. Chaste, at first, meeting Shoma’s open mouth with his closed one, but acquiescing quickly enough to nip at his bottom lip. Shoma makes the sweetest little noise low in his throat, when Yuzuru’s tongue slips out to tease at him, and he invites Yuzuru to deepen the kiss with a quiet keen, licking languidly into Yuzuru’s mouth, too.

The sun creeps silently over them, enveloping one side of Yuzuru’s face in heat, and the wind that blows through the window is still gentle and warm. Shoma tastes sweet on his tongue, and he swallows down every little sound hungrily. Fondness fills him in a way that is familiar, a deep-seated comfort, like coming home after an endlessly long time away, and yet it is somehow still new, still exciting.

He could spend hours like this. Countless moments tucked into this space that is just the two of them, Shoma’s body pressed to him, wrapped around him, breathing him in. He thinks he could probably stay here forever, if time would allow. He slips his hand up, further beneath Shoma’s shirt, tripping his fingers up the trench of Shoma’s spine and revelling in the way Shoma leans into him, the bow of his spine, and the sigh that floods out of him when Yuzuru flattens his palm low on Shoma’s back, holding him close gently.

Given the chance, Yuzuru would gladly forget that they still had the rest of the day ahead. That they still have to change, and pack their things, and head to the rink and train until the very bones of them ache with fatigue; learning, adjusting, drilling until every little move becomes muscle memory. In the heat of the morning and the lull of Shoma’s touches, the coaxing stroke of his tongue and his soft, easy smile playing against Yuzuru’s lips, Yuzuru could let it slip his mind, just this once.

But then there is a creak on the stairs, and the honey-sweet daydream unravels at the seams. He pulls away reluctantly—Shoma whines a little and chases him, and Yuzuru only gives in twice, before the sound of footfalls on the staircase becomes too pressing to ignore—and takes a small step back, creating a little necessary distance between them.

Shoma blinks at him a little dazedly. He looks wonderfully lost, lips red and wet and swollen, eyes blown and shining. Yuzuru kisses his cheek, and then kisses the other for good measure. Shoma leans into both touches in turn, and curls his fingers loosely into the hem of Yuzuru’s shirt.

“That’s one way to wake you up,” Yuzuru murmurs, eyeing the flushed point of Shoma’s jaw with a raised brow. Shoma scowls a little at him, and slants forward, turning his face into Yuzuru’s neck and taking a few calming, steadying breaths.

“I don’t know if this is better than being _tired_ _,”_ he grumbles.

Shoma sits back abruptly when the hinges on the hallway door creak open, and Yuzuru steps out from between Shoma’s knees as his mother comes into view, already dressed and looking far more fresh than either of them. She smiles at them both and wishes them a cheery good morning, either truly oblivious to their kiss-drunk expressions or else doing a very good job at pretending to be.

Shoma bites at his lip and drags the sleeves of Yuzuru’s shirt all the way over his fingers, shuffling sheepishly on the counter top. His embarrassment is palpable; as much as Shoma likes affection, physical contact and intimacy, he hates being caught out in it. Shoma would sooner walk himself into a black hole than have Yuzuru’s mother even _almost_ see them kissing.

To distract him from his growing humiliation, Yuzuru picks up Shoma’s coffee cup, and holds it out to him again. Shoma jolts, then takes it, looking almost confused that it’s still there and still hot—that only minutes have passed since he last held it. Yuzuru is hit with another sudden jolt of affection for him, and the urge to draw him close, kiss him again, comes with so much longing that Yuzuru has to squeeze his mug to keep his hands to himself. Shoma’s eyes are wandering, following the path Yuzuru’s mother takes around the room warily.

 _Later_ , Yuzuru thinks. He can indulge himself to his hearts content later. For now, though, they have to get ready for the rest of their day. He drains his own mug and places it by the sink, then jostles Shoma’s knee, pinching back a smile when he jumps back to attention.   

“Drink up, sleepy-head. We’ve gotta get going.”

It is, after all, still early. They have a very long day to go yet.

**Author's Note:**

> For more dumb fic content, you can follow me on twitter @ [shomaun_ho](https://twitter.com/Shomaun_ho), and you can send me more prompts/ideas over on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/Shomaun_ho)
> 
> As usual, I'll unlock my other fics for a couple of days while this is up, so if you don't have an account but you want a chance to read those and leave me some sweet sweet feedback, now's the time!!


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